of no other suffering;
yet his limbs lacked life, and it no longer seemed possible for him to
twist himself about so as to fall easily from the gutter.

"Come on! Come on!" rose in yells from below, but there was no movement
in him.

"We can't wait. The wall will fall," rose affrightedly from below. But
he simply clung and the doom of flame and collapsing timbers was rushing
mercilessly upon him when, in the glare which lit up the whole dreadful
scenery, there rose before his fainting eyes the sight of Miss
Demarest's face turned his way from the crowd below, with all the terror
of a woman's bleeding heart behind it. The joy which this recognition
brought cleared his brain and gave him strength to struggle with his
lethargy. Raising himself on one elbow, he slid his feet over the
gutter, and with a frantic catch at its frail support, hung for one
instant suspended, then dropped softly into the blanket which a dozen
eager hands held out for him.

As he did so, a single gasping cry went up from the hushed throng. He
knew the voice. His rescue had relieved one heart. His own beat
tumultuously and the blood throbbed in his veins as he realised this.

The next thing he remembered was standing far from the collapsing
building, with a dozen men and boys grouped about him. A woman at his
feet was clasping his knees in thankfulness, another sinking in a faint
at the edge of the shadow, but he saw neither, for the blood was
streaming over his eyes from a wound not yet accounted for, and as he
felt the burning flow, he realised a fresh duty.

"Where is Quimby?" he demanded loudly. "He made this hole in my
forehead. He's a murderer and a thief, and I order you all in the name
of the law to assist me in arresting him."

With the confused cry of many voices, the circle widened. Brushing the
blood from his brow, he caught at the nearest man, and with one glance
toward the tottering building, pointed to the wall where he and the girl
Huldah had clung.

"Look!" he shouted, "do you see that black spot? Wait till the smoke
blows aside. There! now! the spot just below the dangling sheet. It's a
bullet-hole. It was made while I crouched there. Quimby held the gun. He
had his reasons for hindering our escape. The girl can tell you----"

"Yes, yes," rose up from the ground at his feet. "Quimby is a wicked
man. He knew that I knew it and he locked my door when he saw the
flames coming. I'm willing to tell now. I was afraid before."